25
1040 Sixth Street
Wayward Pines
Three Years, Seven Months Ago
On their last day together, she prepared his favorite meal.
All afternoon in the kitchen—slicing, stirring, mixing.
The simple act of keeping her hands busy somehow carrying her from one moment to the next.
But she had to focus, because the second she dropped her guard, it all came crashing down on her.
Three times, she’d lost it.
Crumbling to her knees.
Her sobs filling the empty house.
It had been so hard here.
Scary and lonely, and ultimately, hopeless.
But then he’d arrived. Like a dream.
They’d found comfort in each other, and for a time, everything had been better. She’d actually been happy in this strange little town.
The front door opened, closed.
She set the knife down on the cutting board.
Dried her eyes on a dish towel.
Turned to face him.
He stood across from her at the kitchen island.
Said, “You’ve been crying.”
“Just a little.”
“Come here.”
She went to him, wrapped her arms around him and cried into his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair.
“Did you talk to them?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“No change.”
“It’s not fair.”
“I know.”
“What if you just said—”
“I don’t have a choice in the matter.”
“Can’t you—”
“Don’t ask me. Please.” He lowered his voice and whispered into her ear. “You know I can’t talk about it. You know there are consequences.”
“It kills me not to understand.”
“Look at me.” He held her face in his hands and stared down into her eyes. No one had ever loved her like this man. “We’ll get through this.”
She nodded.
“How long?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Yes.”
“Are you coming back?”
“Of course I am. Is he upstairs?”
“He’s not home from school yet.”
“I tried to talk to him about it, but—”
“He’s gonna have a real hard time.”
He put his hands on her waist.
Said, “Look, it’s done, and there’s nothing we can do about it, so let’s enjoy the time we do have. All right?”
“Okay.”
“Should we go upstairs for a little while? I’d like a little something to remember you by.”
“I don’t want to burn dinner.”
“Fuck dinner.”
She lay in bed, in his arms, watching the sky darken through the windows.
“I can’t even imagine what it’ll be like,” she said.
“You’re strong. Stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
“What if you don’t come back to me?”
“Then know this. The time I’ve spent with you here in this valley, in this house, have been the best of my life. Better than all my time in the world before. I love you, Theresa. Madly and forever and—”
She kissed him and pulled him on top of her.
Into her.
She was crying again.
“Just be right here,” she said. “I love you. God, I love you so much, Adam, don’t leave me, please, don’t leave me…”